The Dark Chronicles
by SylvanDreamer
Summary: Three babies. One misinterpreted prophecy. The wrong boy is chosen and that mistake could prove to be the undoing of the Wizarding World when the real savior is raised by the darkness. dark Harry. future slash. rewrite of previous fic.
1. Prologue: Prophecy

One of the good things about being a writer is that you grow as you write. Unfortunately this also means that most of the times you outgrow other stories you've already written. This means that you either abandon them or rewrite them over again. I seriously considered abandoning this but someone *cough* hewhoistomriddle *cough* wants me to continue. So. Um. I'll try rewriting it instead.

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine.**

**Warning**: Although nothing has been finalized, there is a great chance this will be slash (Draco/Harry) but probably not for a long, long time. Consider yourselves warned. If you don't like slash then don't bother reading.

**THE DARK CHRONICLES **

(TAKE 2 LOL)

**Prologue: Prophecy**

It was the height of summer and the sun seemed determined to melt absolutely anything and anyone caught under it. Temperatures were pushing a hundred degrees Fahrenheit and almost all the houses and building in Hogsmeade were spelled with Cooling Charms. Business at the Three Broomsticks was unusually slow, the heat making most people reluctant to travel or leave their homes even for just a few minutes. Which was why it was such a shock to the people of Hogsmeade when they saw two men marching down the High Road at noontime, right when the sun burned hottest.

One of the two was a short, slight man dressed in an overabundance of robes that made people wince when they thought of him wearing that in this weather. He was wiping sweat from his face with one hand while he struggled valiantly to keep pace with the other man who, people were even more surprised to note, happened to be Hogwarts' resident Potions Master, Severus Snape. In the shimmering heat, with his robes billowing behind him and his steps stirring up dust Snape managed to look even more unpleasant than usual. Or perhaps it really was just the heat.

Most of the inhabitants of Hogsmeade would turn to look, wonder about the strange sight for a second, and then promptly forget about it, deciding that such things weren't worth ruminating over when one could spend the rest of one's time devising other ways aside from Cooling Charms to stay cool.

Noticed but unhindered, the two men kept on walking until they reached their destination – the Hog's Head pub, managing to look even dingier in the harsh brightness of day. The shorter man, a known regular at the Leaky Cauldron named Caradoc Dearborn, checked his five ticking wristwatches and muttered, "Well, we're bang on time, Professor."

Snape only grunted before pushing the door open, one hand slipping surreptitiously into his robes. Predictably, the Hog's Head was empty and perhaps for this reason it's owner had decided not to apply a Cooling Charm with the result that the inside was even more stiflingly hot compared to the outside. Sweat dripped from Snape's greasy hair and onto his robes and there were wet patches on Dearborn's. The lone customer in the Hog's Head who happened to be perched on a chair in one of the center tables rose as they entered, her many-bangled arms clinking gently.

"My dear sirs, the cards have foretold of your coming." They saw that she was tucking a deck of cards into a hidden pocket. "The Powers Unseen bless you."

Snape was disapprovingly silent but Dearborn let out a little squeak of excitement. In front of them was one of the current celebrities of the Wizarding World – the Seer Sibyll Trelawney. She was well-known for being a descendant of Cassandra Trelawney and for most of her life had not really accomplished anything worth mentioning. All that had changed a little over two years ago, though. Sibyll Trelawney had been with Emmeline Vance when she had gone into a trance and started prophesying a Death Eater attack on Platform 9 and ¾. Thinking it another one of Trelawney's 'performances' Emmeline Vance had disregarded it, barely mentioning it in passing to Albus Dumbledore a little while after. Dumbledore had shrewdly guessed that there was more to Sibyll Trelawney's words than met the ear and had sent an advance guard to the train station.

Needless to say, many lives were saved and a huge number of Death Eaters put to trial and jail due to Sibyll Trelawney's timely prediction. The incident had spread like wildfire and cemented her reputation as a Seer. Since then, she'd been in high demand people clamoring for her to foretell _their_ futures. She was nominated Witch Weekly's witch of the year and her hastily-written book (insubstantial in Snape's opinion) was an instant bestseller. She stood now, distant and mystical, wrapped in gauzy shawls despite the heat, delicately blotting out her sweat.

Snape noted that if this moment had indeed been foretold by the cards, she could have greeted them by their names.

He thought she was nothing more than an attention-seeking fraud. Oh, he believed in her first prophecy. He just didn't believe, as she widely claimed, that she could control her powers and believed all of her succeeding predictions were balderdash. Apparently, Dumbledore thought differently as he had sent Snape and Caradoc Dearborn, who Snape knew was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, under the guise of escorting Trelawney to Hogwarts to begin her new position as Divination teacher. The truth of the matter, Snape suspected, was that Dumbledore was aware that the Dark Lord would strike back at Trelawney after the incident at Platform 9 and ¾.

And how right the Headmaster was to fear, Snape thought lips bordering on a grim smile.

The first spell shattered the Hog's Head's grimy windows. The door flew open and the black-robed Death Eaters swept in. Snape counted six (_exactly as planned_) before he trained his wand and sent a table blasting into their way.

"Get down!" he coldly ordered a Trelawney who seemed frozen to the spot. _With all your great Seeing powers you couldn't predict this_? he stopped himself from asking amusedly.

"Stupefy!"

Dearborn's Stunning Spell hit one of the Death Eaters and two more of them shifted forward with Shield Spells while the remaining three moved to the back getting ready to throw offensive curses. Snape grabbed Trelawney's thin arm as he shot a Stunning Spell at the Death Eaters as well. It bounced off their shields, sparking. Dearborn was casting spell after spell (perhaps he was good for something after all; Snape wasn't surprised since members of the Order of the Phoenix were often _very_ unpredictable) while his eyes flit to and fro, assessing the best way out of the pub. The barkeeper had run off after the first spell.

It would be too late for reinforcements to come, Snape thought grimly. The Death Eaters would take out Dearborn and Snape would 'fight' to keep Trelawney safe. It wouldn't do after all, if people guessed (although there were already suspicions) that Snape himself was a Death Eater.

Then Murphy's Law laughed at all of them.

Trelawney suddenly went rigid and Snape shot her a surprised look. At the same moment he heard running footsteps and he saw Aurors with their distinctive uniforms appear behind the Death Eaters. He caught the look that one of them gave to Dearborn and cursed himself for not anticipating that Dumbledore would have sent members of his precious Order undercover just to ensure Trelawney's safety.

This complicated things immensely but it was… doable. He just had to get Trelawney outside where Leigh was waiting and Leigh could kill her and Stun Snape making it seem like Snape had been helping her escape instead of being the one responsible for her death. He turned to her and she was shaking, eyes unfocused one hand clutching at a chair as spells whizzed past her.

"Get her, oh Merlin, _get her out of here, Snape!_" Dearborn was yelling at him while dodging a spell cast by one of the masked Death Eaters.

But Snape simply stared as Trelawney's mouth lolled then opened her voice harsh and grating but low enough that only Snape could hear what was being said.

"_**Three of them will come."**_

"_Cruciatus_!"

"Snape, watch out!" He dodged, almost losing his footing and he fell hard on a table.

"_**Three will be born as the Seventh Month wanes – **_

_**One to bring Darkness, One to bring Death,**_

_**And One to Save all Wizardkind."**_

He pulled himself up but all of a sudden a member of the Order – Prewett, all that red hair it had to be – and a Death Eater were dueling in front of him, blocking his way from Sibyll Trelawney. The Death Eater was wrestling Prewett to the ground. Snape cursed as he took out his wand and Stunned the Death Eater. It would have been far too suspicious if he had not stopped to help. There was a great whoosh and he heard from the cackling laughter outside, the arrival of more Death Eaters. He turned to Trelawney but she was not standing where she had been.

A quick panicked glance around the room showed her being ushered through the back door by a figure dressed in a dirty gray cloak that Snape could have sworn had not been there earlier.

" – _**Light will breed Dark, and Dark will breed Light – "**_

And Trelawney was pushed through the door and the unknown man glanced back enough for Snape to see something inked in black on his right cheek before the door shut with an ominous bang.

**"NO!"** Snape roared, mind out of the battle around him and wrapped around the fact that Trelawney had been making a prediction.

He ran past members of the Order and Death Eaters alike, coming close to a Killing Curse aimed at the member of the Order beside him but he didn't see any of them. One of the tables had caught fire from a Flame Hex and smoke was choking the pub. His hand closed around the metal knob of the door and he pushed it open.

It opened into an empty storeroom. Trelawney and the man, whoever he was, had simply vanished.

- o -

The man stumbled a little but his grip on the Seer never gave. They had emerged into the woods bordering Hogsmeade and although she was still prophesying, it did not matter. Not when he already knew the important gist of what she had to say.

" – _**And the Savior shall be known by Power Immeasurable**_

_**But their Lives will be cloaked - by gray shades of good and evil -**_

_**Until the Moon overpowers the Sun**_

_**And the Three embrace their Destiny."**_

He caught her as she fell unconscious but his mind was not on the woman heavy in his arms whose many shawls scratched him. His mind was in another time, with another Seer, who had made an almost similar prophecy about three other boys.

Darkness, Death and Light indeed.

- o -

Snape wondered whether Dumbledore had ever interrogated prisoners of war – it was something the Headmaster seemed very subtly excellent at. The tide of the battle had shifted the moment it was discovered that Trelawney had simply vanished. The Death Eaters had done an all too excellent job of escaping but no one – Death Eater and Order member alike – had the faintest notion of how Sibyll Trelawney and some unknown man who had not been there in the first place could simply vanish into thin air.

Snape was sure his interrogation with Voldemort in a couple of hours would be far more painful than what Dumbledore was subjecting him through now.

One consolation was that no one in the village was hurt. There were no houses near the Hog's Head so the fire had not spread too far. No one had been wandering out in the streets so there were no casualties. Dumbledore had given his word that he himself would pay and oversee the restorations to the pub. There were many disgruntled mutters at this.

Snape watched Dumbledore savor another lemon drop, lips smacking as though they had all the time in the world. The man was asking Snape to describe what had happened for what had to be the twelfth time already. A lesser person would have gone into hysterics by now. Snape simply took a short breath and started all over again, racking his memory and being as precise with the details as he could be. All the while he was talking those light blue eyes never left his face.

Unlike certain other idiots with hero complexes (that arrogant _Potter_, for one) Dumbledore had never been anything other than kind and fair to Snape. Even though whenever he looked at Snape, the latter felt sure that Dumbledore _knew_ he was a Death Eater. As Snape was describing how the unknown man had been escaping with Trelawney, Dumbledore held up a hand and interceded with a question,

"What, exactly was on his cheek?"

"I cannot recall exactly, Headmaster. There was smoke everywhere and they were too far off by that time. It looked like a triangle with other… figures inside it. A crude shape but it seemed familiar. I have tried looking through the memory in my Pensieve but it is indistinct there as well," Snape replied. It was not a lie. The tattoo on the man's cheek had been something he'd been puzzling over and obviously, Dumbledore knew as he did that it might be the only thing that would provide them with a clue to the man's identity.

Dumbledore made a low humming sound and gestured for him to continue. Snape picked up where he had left off and this time Dumbledore listened to the end with no interruptions.

He sighed once Snape had lapsed into silence. "It seems clear, Severus, that whoever this person was one of his intentions was that nobody hear about the full prophecy."

Snape nodded. He had surmised as much. "The question," Dumbledore continued. "Is why. The closest plausible answer I can think of is that it gives more information as to the three who are referred to within the prophecy. Perhaps even their exact identities?"

A little shiver skittered up Snape's spine when he thought once more of what that prophecy had said. One would bring Darkness and one would bring Death… He knew that when he would relay all of this to the Dark Lord later, the Dark Lord's primary concern would be of the child who would be the Savior.

"Considering the presence of Death Eaters, it is safe to assume then that Voldemort knows of this prophecy as well?"

Snape flinched both at the words and at the knowing look Dumbledore sent him. It was not accusing, though. More of resigned. As though Dumbledore knew Snape had no choice but to do it and didn't blame him one bit. Snape didn't like the uncomfortable prickling feeling in his chest because of that.

He forced himself to nonchalantly answer. "Yes. In all probability, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is also aware."

"Then the three families expecting a child by the end of July need to be warned."

Snape blinked. "Excuse me, Headmaster. To the best of my knowledge, the only women expecting a child at around July are Alice Longbottom and Miranda Eveleigh."

Dumbledore's expression was carefully blank as he replied, "Oh, you were not aware, Severus? Lily and James Potter must be congratulated as well."

Congratulated? When their son was one of the candidates to bring forth either darkness or death? As it still did almost every night of his life, Snape's heart went out to Lily. He didn't know which was worse – to have a child that would bring darkness, a child that would cause death or a child whose responsibility it was to stop all those from happening.

**TBC**

Whew. Well. Not bad. I think. I hope you guys think so too. Prophecy was changed. Please review.

Coming up: the three little kiddies.


	2. Three Children

**Disclaimer**: **Harry Potter is not mine.**

**Note:** Although I'm changing some things in the story, I'm also recycling others. This is not a completely new story, more of a hybrid. Neville Longbottom will probably be playing a slightly bigger role here.

That aside, I was surfing the net when I came upon this Encyclopedia Dramatica article about the 'worst fanfic ever'. It was apparently in the Harry Potter universe and I didn't think anything could be that bad so I checked it out. _ I'm still not sure if that was a bad thing or a good thing. On one hand, I felt like my IQ had dropped fifty points. On the other, it was so bad that it was the most hilarious thing I'd ever read. It's called 'My Immortal'. Probably not on any longer but just search it on google. It was... Haha. There are no words.

**THE DARK CHRONICLES**

**Chapter One: Three Children**

- o - o -**  
**

Horrible weather. Very, very horrible and weather like this was usually a portent of bad things to come. Marlene McKinnon made sure she had her lucky horseshoe by the bedside table and had moved her plant pot with the four-leafed clover nearer to the bed before she and Geoff went to sleep. Briefly, her mind flashed to the birthing ward at St. Mungo's where she'd visited earlier. Alice Longbottom, Miranda Eveleigh and Lily Potter were already in labor when she'd gotten there and the atmosphere in the waiting room was tense as a tightly wound string.

Even Sirius Black and James Potter, usually to be found in the thick of mischief, were conversing quietly by the corner. And who could blame them? Although the Wizarding community at large was not privy to what a phenomenal night this was to be, the members of the Order of the Phoenix knew better. The words of Sibyll Trelawney – though no one had written it down on Dumbledore's orders – resonated in all of them just the same.

Trelawney was still missing, had been for a few months, although both the Ministry and the Order were working separately to find her. As with the incident at Hogsmeade though, no one had any idea of where to look first.

Marlene had left the hospital early. There were many members of the Order there that the three women would be safe even if You-Know-Who _did_ attack tonight. The moment she'd set foot outside of St. Mungo's though, the rain had started falling and continued unabated even as she prepared dinner for the family. Strange, considering that there had been no forecast for stormy weather or even the hint of a drizzle in the skies earlier.

She was halfway between the comfortable lull of sleep and waking when small fingers prodding at her shoulder immediately jerked her to complete wakefulness. She gasped in surprise and nearly launched herself off the bed. It was just Natalie, though, her eight year old, still in her nightgown, eyes wide and solemn as she was illuminated on and off by the flickering lightning.

"Nat, sweetum?" her voice was still slow with drowsiness. "What's the matter?"

"Mummy. I think there's someone at the door," Natalie whispered in a shaky voice.

Marlene stiffened. She pushed off the blankets and with one hand drew Natalie over to the window of the bedroom that overlooked the front door. She had to squint some in order to see past the thick curtain of rain but there was an unmistakable dark human form huddled by the front door. She willed herself to stay calm. It was probably just a stranger, wanting shelter for the night but these days…

"Nat, I want you to go wake your brother all right sweetum? Remember all those things mummy told you about what to do when bad people come? I want you to do it now," she said in a falsely light voice. "Don't argue, Nat. Please do it."

Natalie nodded fearfully but padded off as silently as she could to Robert's room. They would both hide in the cellar. Marlene hurried to the bed and shook her husband awake.

"Mrph?" was Geoff's less than coherent answer.

"Wake up! Someone's at the door."

Her husband rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, voice husky, "Who?"

"I don't know. It's just one person… I think but they look like they're just _sitting_ there. I don't like it, Geoff."

Her husband nodded. There was no such thing as too careful when in a couple of hours later on it could be your house that the Dark Mark was floating on top of. The two of them shrugged into bathrobes, grabbed their wands, made sure the kids were safely hidden and slowly made their way downstairs, across the foyer to the front door. They exchanged a quick look as Marlene grabbed the doorknob and Geoff stood nearby ready to attack if it became necessary.

Marlene swiftly pulled the door open as Geoff trained his wand on the person outside. The same person who slumped unconscious into their marble-tiled floor. The couple stared at each other and then Geoff quickly grabbed the person – it was a woman, he noted with surprise – and brought her into the house as Marlene shut the door and reactivated the alarm spells. Geoff pushed the heavy wet hair from the person's face and Marlene gasped when she saw who it was.

Her clothes were ragged and wet but the face of Sibyll Trelawney was instantly recognizable. "Impossible," Geoff croaked. "How do you suppose she - ?"

"I don't know," Marlene replied in a hushed whisper. She bent lower and pushed a finger to the Seer's neck. The beating of a pulse made her breathe easier. She was definitely still alive if unconscious. It was then that Marlene noticed how Trelawney's hands were clasped together, clutching at something.

As Geoff went to get towels and dry clothes, Marlene carefully pried what seemed like glossy, cardboard-thick paper from Trelawney's hands. When Geoff returned to the foyer, it was to the sight of his wife's horrified and pale face.

"I have to get to St. Mungo's," were the words that spilled out of Marlene's mouth.

"What?" Geoff asked startled. "What in Merlin's name for?"

Marlene showed him what Trelawney had been holding. It was three tarot cards. The first one was the tarot card for The Star and on it had been pinned the crest of the Eveleigh family. The second card was The Tower and under it was the crest of the Potter family. The third card, on which the crest of the Longbottom family resided, was Death.

- o - o -

"Praise Merlin I was born a man," muttered Dedalus Diggle after a particularly pain-filled, drawn-out moan by Alice Longbottom. Most of the men in attendance, though they would never admit it, silently agreed. An even more severe than usual Minerva McGonagall frowned at his words.

"Of all the things to say, Mr. Diggle!" she reprimanded sharply. "If nothing useful can come from you then I suggest you make your words scarce."

Dedalus Diggle hung his head and mumbled an apology. The next moan was more of a scream and this time it came from the room where Lily Potter was ensconced. Diggle paled and looked even more nauseous at the sound. He along with Caradoc Dearborn and Edgar Bones excused themselves to purportedly go and find food. McGonagall's sharp eyes followed them as they hastened from the waiting room.

Edgy silence reigned, punctuated only by Frank Longbottom's incessant pacing, low murmured conversations between James, Sirius, Peter and Remus in the corner and a distraught Keelan Eveleigh being force-fed bread and jam by Molly Weasley. A particularly loud lightning bolt split both the sky and their ears and suddenly a heavily-wet, cloaked figure had rushed, out of breath, into the waiting room. Most of them half had their wands out when the hood of the cloak was pushed back to reveal a bedraggled Marlene McKinnon.

"The Headmaster? Professor Dumbledore?" she was speaking in panting gasps, having apparently run all the way there. "I need to speak to him, I need to – "

Motherly as ever, Molly Weasley walked over gesturing for Marlene to calm down. "Dumbledore's just stepped outside Marlene, dear, aren't you supposed to be home? What about Geoff and your children?"

Marlene shook her head vehemently. "There's something the Headmaster has to - "

Creepily enough, Albus Dumbledore chose just this exact moment to walk into the room. The sight of a soaking wet Marlene made him pause for a while before he smiled. "Ah, Mrs. McKinnon. So nice of you to rejoin us. I'm sure we still have hot tea somewhere. You seem like you could use it."

"NO!" this word was almost screamed. "Headmaster, you don't understand. My husband and I, we found Sibyll Trelawney. She – we just saw her outside our front door. We didn't know it was her at first but then we took her inside and - " she paused for breath but this time she had the entire waiting room's attention. "She's unconscious. We have her at home now, Geoff is tending to her. She seemed healthy but… exhausted. Also…"

Marlene's hands trembled slightly as she held out the three tarot cards with the respective family crests still pinned to them. "She was holding these."

A quick intake of breath from Minerva McGonagall was heard before the room erupted in a cacophony of too many wizards trying to make their opinion heard at once.

"What in Merlin's – "

" – can't be true – "

" – trying to say?"

" – Dumbledore! Does this – "

"Silence, please. Silence," Dumbledore tried to call out but the sound of his voice only renewed the determined babble.

A high-pitched exploding sound followed by creepy clown laughter suddenly pervaded the air and it disturbed everyone into shocked silence.

"Thank you, Mr. Black," Dumbledore's lips twitched into a smile. Sirius Black grinned back wanly and sketched a small bow exchanging high fives with James. "We shall all please maintain a semblance of order. This is after all, a hospital."

"The Star," from beside the fireplace, the low voice of Benjy Fenwick drifted over to them. His eyes were trained on the cards that Marlene McKinnon held. "It symbolizes hope. The Tower, symbolizing a coming darkness. And Death."

His smile was sardonic. "I believe Seer Trelawney's message is absolutely clear, Headmaster."

A heartbeat of silence before James surged forward and punched Fenwick in the face. "What in blazes do you think you're saying? That's my _son_ you're talking about!"

"James, stop!"

"Fenwick, keep yer trap shut, mate!"

It took both Remus and Sirius to haul James off to a chair while Keelan Eveleigh dragged Benjy Fenwick to the opposite side of the room. As soon as both men had calmed down somewhat, they found themselves cowering slightly from the keen disappointment in Albus Dumbledore's gaze.

"If you are quite done acting like children, Mr. Fenwick, Mr. Potter," McGonagall interjected in a wintry voice. "Albus, please."

"Thank you, Minerva. Very roughly and tactlessly stated Mr. Fenwick but that is what those cards generally stand for," Dumbledore spoke quietly. "Although I believe that before we start pushing with our own interpretations we need to hear this out from Sibyll Trelawney first. Understanding tarot cards is a thorny business at best. Marlene, Sibyll Trelawney is fine?"

Marlene McKinnon nodded. "She seemed to regain consciousness before I left but she fell asleep again, Headmaster. As you know, my Geoff is a Healer and he says that her condition is typical to those who have undergone shock or trauma of some sort. He says that she needs a few days rest and some good food but perhaps in the long run she should see some trained therapist for the psychological troubles."

"Thank you for taking care of her, Marlene. I will inform the Minister of Magic that we have found Sibyll Trelawney. They will no doubt insist she be moved here when she regains consciousness. We will also need people to watch over her as I am certain that the Dark Lord will make another attempt on her life. But until we have spoken with Sibyll Trelawney, we will not dole out judgments based on mere speculation." Fenwick had the gall to look properly chastised.

"Mr. Potter?"

The soft voice came from a tired-looking mediwitch. She held a swaddled bundle in her arms. "Congratulations, sir. You have a son."

James looked frozen for a second, as did everyone else in the room, then a smile blossomed on his face. As he stood up to approach his son, there was a powerful bolt of lightning and the little Potter child began crying. _And hell began to happen_.

The first shrill cry that Harry James Potter shed was like the scream of demons struggling to escape from cages. Minerva McGonagall would later recall that when she heard the sound, it struck her as not quite human. The candles around the room began to flicker in an unseen wind and the temperature was suddenly freezing. The fire in the fireplace sputtered and then died and even though Remus Lupin tried to coax it back with an Incendium Charm, the wood refused to catch fire. Then things became even more violent.

The furniture began shuddering and Benjy Fenwick leaped away from the corner cabinet because he could have sworn it started _moaning_. A heavy black mist seemed to come from out of nowhere and obscured their vision. The windows were vibrating and Dumbledore had only enough time to yell out, "Get away from there!" before they erupted in an explosion of glass. People started screaming, including the medi-witch that was still holding Harry Potter.

"I'm burning!" she shrieked and they saw that she was indeed.

"Black flame," Minerva McGonagall was horrified to see that it was emanating from the little baby and steadily burning the arms of the woman who held him.

She screamed and let go of the baby, running her hands over her arms and trying to put out the flames. Before Dumbledore could cast a spell to catch little Harry Potter from meeting up with the ground in a highly unpleasant way, the Headmaster saw that the baby was doing a more than good enough job on his own. Harry Potter was levitating a couple of inches off the ground, embraced by that thick black cloud that was taking over the entire room.

"Dumbledore, what's happening?" Frank Longbottom screamed as he helped Molly Weasley up from the floor. The furniture was shaking viciously and most of the people had already fled from the room.

"Ow, fucking Merlin!" Sirius Black hissed, pulling his hand away. He had tried to approach and pick up Harry Potter from the floor only to have the black flame lick at him too.

The cloth covering up Harry's face had slipped off and they saw his eyes – black, unnaturally, glowing black. James' mouth hung open as he stared at the baby. _This boy, this creature could _not_ be his son_!

"_Aboleo_," the Headmaster intoned, white light blasting from his wand. The light simply dissipated around the baby and nothing happened.

Frowning, he tried another incantation. "_Erado__!_"

This one vanished before it even had the chance to hit Harry. The baby began crying harder and flower vases shattered. McGonagall was herding most of the people out of the room. A stubborn Molly Weasley, bleeding from a cut on her arm was insisting that she stay despite her husband Arthur's pleas otherwise. The people near Dumbledore began to panic as they saw that not even his spells had an effect on the baby.

The portraits along the walls were also in disarray, most of them running away from their cracking frames. Dumbledore paled as he contemplated his next step. This spell was far too powerful to use on a newborn baby. But something had to be done. And Miranda and Alice were still in there giving birth. They had to be kept safe. He raised his wand –

And the darkness simply vanished.

"_Lumos_." The remaining people in the room flinched as the light from Sirius' wand highlighted the destruction of the waiting room. Most of the furniture was broken and beyond repair. Broken pieces of glass glinted ominously from the floor. They heard sounds of desperate sobbing coming from the hallways where the other members of the Order had been evacuated. There was a gurgling and cooing sound coming from Harry on the floor. He had stopped crying. The thick black miasma that had strangled the air in the room had disappeared and there was the faint smell of mint and lavender now. Slowly, a calm, white light began to suffuse the room. Just like the black fog earlier, it seemed to have no apparent point of origin

"Dumbledore?" the faint voice was Molly Weasley's.

The Headmaster turned to her and saw that she was pointing at something. Or someone. Another medi-witch had emerged from one of the birthing rooms and was standing there staring shell-shocked at the scene of destruction. She had a baby in her arms, a baby with the exact same blue eyes as Keelan Eveleigh.

"Mr. Eveleigh, sir?" she asked faintly.

A gaping Keelan managed to overcome himself and bounded over to his son. He smiled as he touched the baby's cheek and he burbled. "Francis," Keelan murmured.

Keelan Eveleigh's voice seemed to jar everyone out of the trance-like state they'd been caught in. Dumbledore slowly approached the baby Potter where he was still lying on the floor. The black eyes of earlier were now a bright green – the exact replica of Lily's. Slowly, he lowered his hand and touched Harry's skin. Nothing happened. There was no more burning, no black fire. Gingerly, Dumbledore lifted up the baby and held little Harry Potter in his arms.

From across the room, Dumbledore saw that Benjy Fenwick was staring at the child. His face was pale and expression horrified. Dumbledore met his eyes and he saw that Fenwick felt vindicated. This was absolute proof that Trelawney's cards were right. This baby would bring darkness. Dumbledore's eyes drifted over to where Keelan Eveleigh was rocking his son in his arms. And that one would save them all.

A third cry rose up, a baby's sobs coming from the room where Alice Longbottom was ensconced. Dumbledore closed his eyes and sighed wearily. He was getting too old for this – for prophecies and inexplicable evil. Neville Longbottom had been born and the three of the prophecy were finally complete.

Merlin help them.

- o - o -

_A week later_

All the spells were finished.

Dumbledore stepped back from the circle and eyed little Harry Potter who was squirming at the center of said circle. The baby was naked and his skin was covered with rune-like tattoos. The ritual Dumbledore had used was ancient and only two or three other wizards in this day and age could possibly have accomplished it. Dumbledore himself felt drained and tired, having poured most of his magic into the ritual.

Unlike the very eventful birth of Harry Potter and the equally eventful introduction of Francis Eveleigh, Neville Longbottom's subsequent birth had been quiet and unremarkable. Much like the child himself. Little Francis Eveleigh loved to laugh and was the sweetest, most patient baby (according to Molly Weasley) that there ever had been. Harry Potter though… The Headmaster sighed. Harry Potter was… difficult. The boy cried a lot and every time he cried the strange and dark power that resided within him acted up.

The second time it had happened, a fork that went flying across the room nearly poked James' eye out. His power alarmed Dumbledore and the Headmaster had gone back to the books in order to search for any mentions of power like this. So far, he had come up with nothing. The even more disturbing fact was that as time passed, Harry Potter's power seemed to grow slowly but steadily stronger. Something had to be done about it.

The idea came to Dumbledore after he had spoken to Sibyll Trelawney. The Seer predictably, remembered nothing after her capture from the Hog's Head and she certainly did not remember her prophecy or the tarot cards. The opinion she had given though was much the same as what Fenwick had said. And if Harry Potter was the professed child of darkness… Dumbledore had to suppress a shiver. The Dark Lord must never find out and Harry's power had to be controlled… somehow.

People nowadays did not practice ritual magic since it required enormous amounts of magic and was physically draining. The ritual Dumbledore had come across was known as the Ritual of Sealing and it had been used back in the Dark Ages to punish wizards who had committed 'the most atrocious of crimes'. It sealed up a person's magic within them so they could not use it anymore. In essence, it was used to turn a wizard into a Squib. It had been rather drastic and yes, Harry Potter would never be able to use his magic again but compared to the alternative Dumbledore had felt he had no choice.

He had talked it over with Lily and James and they had agreed. Anything to have a remotely normal son. The only problem as far as Dumbledore was concerned was that Harry Potter's powers were still growing and that meant the ritual needed to be reinforced at the very least once a week in order to prevent his powers from breaking through the wards. The only person aside from Dumbledore who was capable of doing this was his friend who was probably the last wizard on Earth who specialized in ritual magic – Daedarus Wycksworth.

The initial part of the ritual was now complete. Harry's parents only had to bring him to Healer Wycksworth once a week and the boy could probably live a normal life.

He picked up Harry and brought him over to the room where James and Lily were waiting.

"How are you feeling, Lily, my dear girl?" he asked as he handed her back her son.

Lily glanced askance at the rune markings covering Harry before she gingerly took him into her arms. The first time she had done that, or tried to do that, Harry's powers had burned her with black flame as well. The Healers had done a wonderful job of patching up the burns.

"Much better, Headmaster," she smiled wanly. "I've rested enough now."

Dumbledore nodded. "I'm glad to hear you're taking care of yourself. Harry's little… fits won't be too much of a bother now." Harry's little fits had destroyed most of Potter manor and countless family heirlooms.

"So we have to take him to, uh," James felt fidgety and incredibly unsure of what to say.

"Yes. I've already informed Healer Wycksworth of the… circumstances. He will reinforce the ritual shields once a week. The Ritual of Sealing is far from perfect though and Harry's powers may fluctuate once in a while and escape from the shield. I wanted to warn you of that," Dumbledore said his words in as gentle a tone as possible.

"But he won't be a danger anymore," Lily whispered softly.

"No, for the most part he will not."

The parents nodded. Dumbledore, looking at Harry sleeping in Lily's arms, thought about the last line of the prophecy that Severus Snape had overheard. _Light will breed Dark and Dark will breed Light_. The Potters and the Longbottoms, both families of unquestionable repute and loyalty, giving birth to two sons who were if the prophecy proved true, destined to bring about darkness. And there were the Eveleighs who had only publicly renounced serving Voldemort a year or so ago. Before that Keelan Eveleigh himself had been a Death Eater. Ironic that _their _child should be the savior.

As James traced some of the runes on Harry's skin, Dumbledore's thought was that perhaps, with this, things would be different.

- o - o -

_Another week later_

Healer Daedarus Wycksworth was a tall, thin, stern-looking man with straw-like hair and eyes that could have been brown, green or some other murky color in between. His office (if one liked to call this room in the far dungeons that) was covered with papers, scrolls and books strewn haphazardly everywhere. There was a faint air of disarray about him and what seemed like a permanent tic at the side of his mouth.

Perhaps it was only their imagination, but Wycksworth's eyes seemed to chill over when they turned to Harry. The baby simply cooed and gurgled at him.

"This is him?" his voice was clipped with a faint sharp accent to it.

"Yes, Healer Wycksworth."

The man hummed. "You may leave him with me and return in six hours."

Carefully, Lily transferred the baby to the other man who held him stiffly and awkwardly. As soon as he felt himself leave his mother's arms, Harry began to cry again.

Both Potters ignored it as they walked out of the room, leaving their only son with the Healer.

"Do you think we're doing the right thing, Lils?" James murmured as he took one of his wife's hands into his.

Lily wavered slightly before answering. "Yes. This has to be done. It's not just us this time, James. This is the entire Wizarding World at stake here."

James pushed aside his reservations and agreed. They had both been called to make sacrifices for the Order of the Phoenix, for the war against Voldemort before. This was simply another one of them.

People who have lived too little do not know that sometimes, sacrifices are not enough.

**TBC**

Please review. Hastily edited, please tell me if there are any mistakes.

Coming up: Harry grows up.


	3. Tragedies That Shape Us

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine.**

It's official. I have now given Harry Potter the shittiest childhood I could think of. I needed a legitimate reason for him to really _hate_ the Order/his parents considering that they would one day be his enemies so… yeah. Warning in this chapter for disturbing stuff (like really bad child abuse I'm sorry please don't kill me)

To those who read 'My Immortal' – LOLZ people! XDDD Wasn't it hilarious?

Luc – Thank you for the reminder, I know I tend to go overboard on the detours and adjectives sometimes. :D Remind me if I deviate too much okay?

**THE DARK CHRONICLES**

**Chapter Two: Tragedies That Shape Us**

- o - o -**  
**

_Three and a half years later_…

Saturdays were both good and bad days. If the bad often outweighed the good, it wasn't a fact that Harry Potter liked to dwell on.

He had hurriedly eaten the breakfast the house elves had prepared for him, struggled into his best clothes, painstakingly combed his hair not even bothering to have the house elves help him (not that they would ever want to considering that they were all afraid of him) and positioned himself quietly and obediently on the sofa in the parlor. From outside, he could barely hear the muffled voices of his parents.

"Lils, what are you wearing? We're going to the gathering at the Weasleys remember?"

"That's for later, James. Have your forgotten what day it is today?"

"…Oh."

"Yes, 'oh'. Now come on, he's probably already waiting."

And the door to the parlor would open and Harry's parents would enter and find him sitting on the sofa in perfectly pressed clothes with neatly combed hair and his posture ramrod perfect. James would give him a half-confused, half-despairing look while Lily would utter a small sigh.

"Come along, Harry."

Then he would docilely rise from the sofa and trot over to his parents. He made sure to never stand too close to them – they didn't like that. Yes, Saturdays were good days because the ride from the house to Healer Wycksworth's office took almost an hour and it was an entire hour where Harry had his parents all to himself. Throughout the rest of the week, James and Lily Potter were often away and busy with work or with 'defending the world against You-Know-Who' as he often heard his father's best friend Sirius Black say. Harry only ever got glimpses of them. They rarely spent time with him, only checking in to make sure the house elves were doing their job and then popping out again.

He was never allowed outside of the house and the only people (creatures?) he saw day in and day out were the house elves but it was… acceptable. On the rare times when his mother and father had guests, Harry often got the feeling they didn't like him too much because of the way they kept glaring at him.

He was always quiet on the ride to Healer Wycksworth's. He let his parents' quiet conversations wash over him and reveled in what he considered quality time. Of course in no time at all they would have arrived at Healer Wycksworth's and the 'bad' part of his day would begin.

- o - o -

There was a knock on his door and Wycksworth absently waved his wand at that direction. The door swung open admitting James and Lily Potter with Harry Potter trailing in after them. Wycksworth set aside his chart and greeted them coolly.

"I'm sorry Healer, my husband and I are in a bit of a hurry today and we'll be busy all day. We've left instructions with the house elves that they are to fetch Harry here after your session. Is that all right?" Lily asked distractedly.

"Quite all right, Mrs. Potter, Mr. Potter. Good day." Dismissive.

The two nodded and returned the greeting before quickly leaving, their footsteps echoing emptily in the corridors. Wycksworth observed that the child turned and followed his parents as they left the room with that slightly forlorn look in his eyes. Wycksworth took his thick notebook and jotted down this little remark. The notebook itself was almost three quarters filled and everything in it had to do with Harry Potter from the very first time Dumbledore had shunted him over to Wycksworth's care.

As soon as the faintest echo of his parents' footsteps had faded, the boy turned those startling green eyes on Wycksworth. The face, always devoid of emotion, reminded Wycksworth very much of himself. He simply gestured for the boy to begin. Without hesitation, Harry Potter began taking off all his clothes. He had learned by now that to hesitate was to earn a curse thrown at him. Said curses usually varied in degrees of pain depending on how serious his 'rebellion' was. Once he was done taking off his clothes, he shivered slightly in the chill of the dungeons.

The routine, week after week, never varied. First, his height and weight were measured. These Wycksworth jotted down in his precise handwriting in the notebook. Then the Healer would use a large syringe to draw blood from the boy along with saliva, urine and feces. If Harry could not provide these, they were usually obtained forcibly. All the compounds were then tested and the results of the test just as meticulously recorded in the notebook.

When the boy was naked he was always distracted by the rune markings all along his arms and when the blood extraction or other such procedure would prove uncomfortably painful, he would divert himself by tracing the rune markings. After all physical examinations were over, the rune ritual would begin.

Wycksworth usually already had the circle prepared in the room adjoining his office and Harry would sit at the center of it while he reinforced the seals in the runes on the boy's body. The Ritual of Sealing was forbidden for the simple fact that it was very painful. Every time the runes were reinforced into Harry's skin, it felt like each and every mark was being tattooed on. The walls had grown adept at absorbing the sound of screams.

By the time the two hours that it took to reinforce the sealing runes was over, the boy was a whimpering lump in the middle of the circle. Wycksworth made sure to note everything he observed in minute detail.

Another problem with Harry Potter was as Albus Dumbledore had feared. His powers were straining against the seals and sooner or later, although Wycksworth would never have believed it possible, the seals would break. Dumbledore had asked Wycksworth to find ways of stomping out Harry Potter's strange powers once and for all. It was not unheard of but for wizards to reject magic – and go to great lengths to put it out – was considered a heresy, an abomination. There were some who even believed that magic was intimately connected with one's soul and to take one's magic away… well. Work that had to do with destroying magic had so far been experimental and highly secret.

There was a wooden cabinet towards the far left of the room and the seam between its doors was sealed floor to ceiling with numerous padlocks. Wycksworth walked over and he seemed to be tapping randomly on certain padlocks with his wand. He felt eyes and knew Harry Potter was staring at him with apprehension. The boy had good reason to fear. He tapped the middle padlock twice and suddenly all of them clicked open and the doors of the cabinet swung outward. The inside was very roomy and seemed to stretch inwards, even through the wall. The only contents were rows upon rows of stone basins that glimmered silver, each basin tagged with a name and a number.

He spared a glance at the boy behind him. "Sit up," he ordered coldly. "Put your clothes back on and wait for me in the next room."

Still shaking, the boy mutely nodded and got to his feet. During the time period where Harry Potter learned how to talk, he would often ask questions. Wycksworth had made it very clear though, that he was not the Potter boy's conversation companion. Over time Harry had begun to address him with fewer and fewer words. The first word the boy had ever said in his presence was 'hurt'. The last – that Wycksworth had jotted down of course – had been 'okay'. That was well over nine months ago.

Wycksworth checked his notes and muttered, "_Propero_."

Five of the stone basins immediately flew from the cabinet and into the room where Harry Potter was waiting. The Healer locked the cabinet shut again and proceeded to walk after the basins.

Harry Potter was sitting on one of the chairs in front of the desk staring at the basins.

"Those are Pensieves," Wycksworth informed. "They are used to store memories. These particular ones hold memories from people who were patients of mine. We will be using them today."

Wycksworth placed the notebook on the table and wrote on a new page: _Theory 1 – Magick linked to subject's mind? Solution – Induction of insanity to destabilize patient's mental condition leading to instability of inherent dark powers?_

Wycksworth gestured to the basin on his far right. "Look into it, boy." Harry Potter's eyes quickly glanced over at him before he obediently stood up and leaned, looking into the Pensieve. Wycksworth none too gently pushed his head into the silvery substance, drowning him in memories. He then proceeded to watch the boy's body alternate between stillness and jerkiness as he reacted to the memories he was seeing.

The Healers first theory was that the boy's magic somehow had to be linked to his mind. Perhaps then by destroying his mind, said magic would be destroyed as well? Inducing insanity usually began by an influx of disturbing material. Wycksworth used to work as a therapist for some of the more violent inmates at Azkaban and these five basins had come from the memories of some of his more unforgettable patients there.

The first basin that the boy was currently viewing belonged to one Franklin Dreyfus. A man who, having feared vampires all his life suddenly found himself turned into one. Not being able to cope with the monster he had become, he'd locked himself and his family up in his mansion and proceeded to suck them dry. He had then moved on to his neighbors getting less sane with each passing house. Later investigations had shown that he hadn't merely drunk the blood; in some cases he had even bathed himself in it. He'd almost dried out his entire village before he was captured.

The second basin was Cane Jenkins. Having been repeatedly sexually harassed as a child had led to him kidnapping children and torturing animals in front of them. The third was Viola Clark, who had delighted in transforming her sisters into puppets while they were still alive without using magic except to bind them. The last two Pensieves belonged to the notorious twin killers who only went by the names Ursa and Orion; they had liked to disembowel their victims and cook the insides for dinner.

Wycksworth patiently wrote down each and every one of Harry Potter's reaction to the memories he was forced to bear witness.

By the end of the session, when the Potter house elves had finally arrived, there was a permanent look of horror on Harry Potter's face. Wycksworth dutifully noted this as well.

- o - o -

_Four months later_

Four months of exposing the boy to increasingly macabre memories did nothing to suppress his powers and as they finished up the Ritual of Sealing for this Saturday, Wycksworth decided that a different approach was needed. The notebook began with a different heading that day: _Theory 2 – Magick linked to patient's physical condition? Solution – varying levels of pain therapy (has been effective in some studies regarding magickal destabilization)._

He finished this by a footnote on how the boy looked relieved that there were no Pensieves present on the desk for the day.

"We will be discontinuing the previous course of action. It seems that no progress is occurring," Wycksworth said curtly. "The new method I have determined will be both less time consuming and more direct. Go stand at the center of the room."

Quietly, Harry Potter obeyed. Wycksworth nodded in satisfaction then pulled out a stopwatch. This would be the boy's first time so there was no point in shocking his system too much. He would go slow for now. Perhaps a maximum of one minute.

"_Crucio!_"

Unexpected pain hit Harry Potter all at once and just as he fell screaming and writhing on the floor, Wycksworth pulled the spell away when the stopwatch hit the five-second mark. He noted the sobs (incoherent, presence of tears, heaving) and the boy's physical state (admirably sound considering it was his first time with the Cruciatus).

Green eyes widened when they saw the wand rise again. Wycksworth readied the stopwatch. This time, he would go for ten seconds, with continuous five second increments until they reached one minute. The boy should be glad this was all he was being subjected to today. Wycksworth noticed that the runes glowed every time the boy started screaming. Perhaps physical pain had more of an effect than mental instability when it came to the boy's powers?

"_Crucio._"

- o - o -

_Five months later_

"…treatment in order to possibly negate the boy's strange abilities. You have noticed how it has been acting up lately, I assume?" Wycksworth had held back the Potters as they delivered their son for the weekly Saturday session in favor of some questions that he needed to ask.

James nodded. "Er, yes. We've noticed Healer Wycksworth. We thought that it was the whole reason why we had to keep bringing him back to you. So that… _those_ kinds of things wouldn't happen anymore."

"Theoretically, they shouldn't happen anymore. The boy's powers though seem to be even beyond the barriers created by the Ritual of Sealing. As such, his powers must be stopped and destroyed at their core."

Lily tried to keep from wringing her hands and clasped James' instead. "Last Wednesday we came home to the entire dining room in shambles. It's… never gotten that bad before. I mean, after he underwent the Ritual of Sealing."

"I have reason to believe his power has not yet manifested itself fully. Like the boy, it keeps growing. For the past few months I've been subjecting him to a physical treatment targeted to destroying his powers but it does not seem to be helping. I terminated it one month ago and am opting instead for a different approach. A colleague of mine from America working for his Ministry is involved in a project somewhere along the lines of magickal obliteration. My colleague believes he has developed a potion to halt the development of one's magic. I wish to try it on your son," Wycksworth presented.

"What will it do exactly?" James pushed.

"Stop his magic from growing so that it will not strain the Sealing runes on him while I search for a more permanent method to eliminate his powers altogether," Wycksworth replied calmly. "My colleague informs me he has tested it on a few subjects with satisfactory results." Wycksworth didn't think the Potters needed to know that so far, all testing had been performed on magical creatures and not on humans yet.

"If you believe it will help then, Healer," Lily conceded. "Is there anything about this treatment we need to know about?"

"One side effect, apparently, is nightmares. He may wake up more than once in the middle of the night disturbed by them. I believe the nightmares themselves pose no harm for the boy," Wycksworth lied smoothly. "So if you they bother you in any way I suggest you set up Silencing Charms around his room."

Wycksworth stood up and handed a crystal flask with a bright blue liquid to the Potters. "One drop in a glass of water every day is all that is needed."

James took the potion and carefully tucked it into the inner pocket of his robes. He and Lily stood up. "Thank you very much for all your efforts, Healer Wycksworth. We can't even begin to tell you how grateful we are that you've done so much for Harry all these years."

Wycksworth allowed himself a small, sardonic smile that contained no joy whatsoever. "It was all my pleasure Mr. Potter, Mrs. Potter."

His eyes followed them as they left his office and he merely stood there contemplating quietly for the next five minutes. He opened his notes and read through the latest entries. Harry Potter had proven remarkably resilient, for a child of nearly four, to the Cruciatus Curse. He had even been able to withstand it for over fifteen minutes, a feat that would have left most adults with permanent brain damage. Psychological exams had shown that the boy though remained lucid.

The only negative effect that the Cruciatus Curse seemed to have on Harry Potter was that he had stopped reacting vocally. He never screamed just lay writhing on the ground with his mouth open in one soundless motion as if all his agony could not be conveyed by his voice. He never cried, either, although the first few sessions with the Cruciatus Curse had been liberally marked with tears. After about a month though, it was almost as if the tears had simply dried up.

He never reacted. Wycksworth had observed one afternoon as his parents were bringing him in that a fistfight had broken out on the corridor near Wycksworth's office. The attention of the Potters as well as everyone within the vicinity had immediately turned to the two men who were beating each other up, but Wycksworth saw that Harry Potter's face remained expressionless and his unfocused eyes were not directed anywhere. In fact, the boy only seemed to pull himself out of the strange stupor when he was being addressed directly. Otherwise, it was almost as if his parents were dragging a doll around.

And the boy never spoke. Wycksworth had confirmed this with the Potters. He would sometimes mumble something but he never spoke loud, clear words again, not even to give commands to their house elves.

Harry Potter's development had so far been satisfactory.

Wycksworth took the notebook and walked to the other room where the boy was waiting to reinforce the Ritual of Sealing.

- o - o -

_One month after_

Harry Potter suppressed a yawn and then pinched himself on his elbow, wincing as the pain traveled sharply up his arm. He was sleepy but he was scared to fall asleep. When he was asleep, the bad things came. The bad things like he had seen in the stone basins in Healer Wycksworth's office months ago. The memories resurfaced along with the bile in his throat so he shut his eyes and concentrated on the thorns of the rose bush in front of him until the thoughts subsided.

He was in the wide backyard of the Potter manor. His parents were out again and his fourth governess had quit just yesterday. Children his age were usually sent to the Starter School for Young Witches and Wizards but James and Lily had thought it more prudent that Harry be homeschooled by a governess. All his previous governesses though had had a difficult time with the boy who rarely responded and never spoke. His third governess (he never bothered learning their names) was actually the most successful one as she had managed to teach him how to read and the rudimentary of arithmetic. She had lasted longest but had quit after a brief flare-up of Harry's powers had sent her collapsing into the grandfather clock in the hallway. That had earned Harry a good fifteen minutes of the Cruciatus Curse from Healer Wycksworth.

His increasingly irritated parents were in the process of finding him a new governess but in the meantime Harry had to be creative in filling out his hours. He'd tried reading but for the most part the books in the Potter library were much too advanced for a child his age. And although he had toys, there were only so many games one could play alone.

He didn't notice the pair of eyes that looked out at him from inside the house.

Bradley Fenwick stared at the little boy who couldn't be more than five years old as he played with the rose bush, being careful not to prick himself on the thorns. His brother had said that this child was going to bring darkness to the Wizarding World. Looking at him now, it was almost unbelievable. But Benjy had been adamant, had even described to Bradley what had taken place at St. Mungo's when the boy had been born. Bradley's stomach clenched unpleasantly at what a power like that could bode for them all.

"Well?"

He almost started in surprise as Sarah McLeod hurried back to him. She looked out the window, caught sight of the little boy, and her homely face twisted in distaste. "That him?"

Fenwick nodded. "Spittin' image o' James Potter."

Sarah snorted. "How people like th' Potters could give birth to a monster's beyond me," she faced Bradley. "Pesky house elves're out like a light. Didn't take much. Nobody else's here neither. Let's go get that little demon and get outta here."

They scurried out to the backyard. As they stepped into the sunlight, Harry Potter's head turned to them and green eyes calmly regarded them. Fenwick found it eerie how the boy's expression never changed. He didn't even seem to be bothered by the fact that complete strangers were in his backyard.

"Got a few nuts and bolts loose, don't he?" Sarah smiled maliciously. "_Stupefy!_"

Bradley hurried forward and grabbed the child's body before it could collapse to the ground. He was light enough that he could be carried without any problem at all. He felt a twinge of what was probably guilt as he stared at the boy's unconscious face but he shrugged it away. This child was dangerous for all of them. The Order of the Phoenix was wrong if it thought that it could simply keep everything secret and hope for the best.

The solution was straightforward. The boy simply had to die.

- o - o -

Benjy Fenwick had no idea why Dumbledore had suddenly called for a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. They were meeting at the McKinnon's house and as soon as he stepped inside it was a scene of pure chaos. Everyone seemed frantic about something and he couldn't even stop any of them long enough to ask what in Merlin's name was going on. Remus Lupin only stopped arguing with Sirius Black long enough to point to Fenwick the room where Dumbledore was supposed to be at.

Dumbledore, McGonagall, Elphias Doge and the Potters sat on stools in the McKinnons' kitchen. The grave furrow of the Hogwarts Headmaster's brow caused Fenwick to worry as well. Whatever this was, it seemed serious.

"Headmaster? What is going on? Everybody was too," he waved a hand at the door. "frantic to tell me anything."

"It seems James and Lily's son has gone missing, Mr. Fenwick," was the somber reply.

Fenwick was dumbstruck. "I thought you had all sorts of fancy spells and charms protecting your house," he addressed James Potter who smiled grimly.

"We did. All the evidence points out that the house elves showed whoever it was into the house. That means that it was probably someone we knew. Or someone they thought we knew."

"What did the house elves say? You have interviewed them, have you not?"

Lily grimaced. "There were traces of essence of hagfish in the kitchen." Fenwick flinched. Rare potions ingredient but nasty stuff. It could knock a person out flat in three days. House elves were more susceptible and they probably wouldn't wake up for at least a week. Once you were knocked out there was nothing that could revive you back to consciousness and the only antidote was waiting.

"So the only clue we have is that it might be someone you know?"

Elphias Doge tapped his fingers on the kitchen counter idly. "I believe there is a probability it could be someone from the Order, Albus. Since this does not seem the work of Death Eaters that is the only theory that makes sense. Only the members of the Order of the Phoenix know the significance of Harry Potter."

Benjy Fenwick felt his blood grow cold at that statement. He had accidentally let slip to his brother the prophecy regarding the three children a couple of weeks ago. It had resulted to many arguments between them since Bradley was of the opinion that the Order of the Phoenix shouldn't keep such information secret and that the two children, Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom, were a menace to society in general. But Bradley wouldn't have… would he?

"Excuse me, I think there is someone I need to talk to," he muttered, ignoring the questioning looks as he left the room.

He made a beeline for the McKinnon's fireplace, threw some Floo powder on it and stepped in. "26 Tower Street!"

His world spun and when it finally stopped spinning, he steadied himself on his brother's fireplace. Benjy stepped out, dusting ashes off his clothes as he looked around. Bradley's apartment was silent and he knew before taking a look around that it would be empty. Benjy scoured the rooms not even knowing what he was looking for but merely following the feeling in his gut that told him to _search_.

He found it in Bradley's bedroom. It was a letter by Sarah MacLeod, the plain-faced Auror-wannabe who was one of Bradley's friends. Benjy had always disliked her and as he read the plan she had outlined on paper he felt his face pale. He took the letter and Flooed back to the McKinnon household.

They had to hurry or Harry Potter would not live to see the next sunrise.

- o - o -

Sarah surreptitiously looked out the windows before closing all the curtains shut. It was unnecessary as her closest neighbors were a mile away but one never knew. She looked to the couch where Bradley Fenwick was tightening the ropes that bound Harry Potter together. After he'd secured every knot and tightened the gag around the boy's mouth, he nodded at her.

She pointed her wand. "_Ennervate_."

The boy blinked his green eyes open and when he felt the ropes and gag, they widened. She saw those eyes flicker to her and Bradley and thought she saw a frisson of fear before it melted into the boy's usual expressionless state. She scowled. Well, it hardly mattered if the boy was afraid or not. The less he struggled, the better in fact.

"Silencing Charms are there a'ready?"

She rolled her eyes. "'Course. Everything's prepared."

Bradley Fenwick sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I just don't get why we can't kill 'im with magic's all."

Sarah laughed sharply. "Oh so I'm guessin' you've been practicing up on your Killing Curse?" Bradley glared. "Thought not. None of us two can do the Killing Curse and makin' it magic makes it obvious that wizards did it. We can just pretend that we took the boy and din't mean 'im no harm and we found his body in some muggle dump after he ran away from us. No way they can ever prove we killed 'im if there's no evidence, right?"

Bradley hesitated. There were so many things that could go wrong here.

"You turnin' wuss on me?"

Fenwick gritted his teeth. "Of course not! Now how do we do this?"

Sarah MacLeod held up a small tinted bottle. "Arsenic," she explained, both of them completely ignoring the too still little boy who was also listening in on their conversation. "It should hurt some but it'll be quick if we give 'im the whole bottle. It's one of the more popular muggle poisons, I'm told."

Bradley took the bottle from her and shook it. "Sure all of this'll be enough to get rid of him?"

"He's a kid. It's more'n enough. Come on, we'll do this in the kitchen. Take the kid, will you?"

Bradley easily lifted the boy up and he didn't even try to struggle. Jeez, it was really weird how passive this kid was. Even just by looking at him you could tell something was really wrong with him. He barely seemed human. Bradley dumped him in one of the chairs while Sarah took out two teacups. She pointed her wand at one teacup and transfigured it into a wriggling mouse.

Smiling at Bradley, she grasped the mouse in one hand forcing its mouth open and trickled some of the poison into its mouth. Bradley watched as the mouse struggled and twitched, and it took nearly five minutes of awkward bodily contortion before it stiffened and fell dead on the kitchen table. There was a small muffled sound from behind the gag as the Potter boy saw what happened to the mouse. Sarah poured out the contents of the bottle on the other tea cup and set it in front of the boy.

Another small whimper and for the first time he actually tried struggling about in his binds. Bradley reached over and undid the gag. It didn't matter, not when there were Silencing Charms around the house. It was just more convenient if the boy started screaming later rather than sooner. But now…

Sarah was holding the tea cup and pushing it in front of Harry Potter's face who was gazing at it in fear. The boy had clamped his mouth shut and was refusing to drink it.

"Troublesome brat," Sarah muttered. She handed the tea cup to Bradley while she took out her wand. "_Patefacio_."

Against his will, Harry felt his mouth fall open and he started to violently thrash about, a high keening sound wailing up from his voice box.

"Be quiet you annoying little brat! You should be thanking us since we're doing this for the good of everyone in the Wizarding World," Sarah hissed.

She grabbed the tea cup back but just as the rim touched Harry Potter's lips the runes etched all over his skin glowed black and then his eyes were glowing black as well. And Sarah had to pause because every piece of furniture in the kitchen was shaking and the air seemed darker and even Bradley, the coward, seemed to be yelling something at her. The boy's annoying wail seemed to rise in pitch and it was scratching at her eardrums and she and Bradley didn't notice the violent shaking of the knife rack or when the knives spilled from it and hurled themselves through the air.

Five minutes later, there was silence.

- o - o -

"You sure this is where she lives?" Sturgis Podmore whispered to Benjy Fenwick as they Apparated outside Sarah MacLeod's house. They had to move fast because no doubt the popping sounds had alerted Sarah MacLeod and Bradley Fenwick of their arrival. Everything was quiet, though. Too quiet.

Benjy merely nodded curtly as he assessed the house. It was well away from neighboring houses and he saw that all the windows were closed and the curtains drawn up. The perfect location for murdering a child and although he disliked Harry Potter and was as fearful of him as most members of the Order, it didn't seem right that he should be killed for something he'd been born with.

They watched as Sirius Black blasted the door open with his wand and the members of the Order flooded the little cottage. There was no one in the living room and they fanned out throughout the house. Benjy saw Sturgis Podmore enter the kitchen and then he heard a strangled cry before a pale Sturgis, complexion tinged with green rushed back out again.

"What is it? What the hell happened?" he demanded.

Remus Lupin peeked into the kitchen and shut the door, swaying slightly and feeling nauseous himself. "I think that someone should call Dumbledore."

"Moony?" James asked softly. "What's in there?"

Lupin only shook his head sadly as he moved from the door to let James see. It was like blood had exploded in the kitchen. Still bound in ropes, Harry Potter sat on one of the kitchen chairs face expressionless and unmoving. He was drenched head to toe in the blood of Sarah MacLeod and Bradley Fenwick who were slumped near him. The tea cup with arsenic lay shattered on the floor. Knives were embedded into Bradley and Sarah's body and there were multiple other stab wounds besides that.

It was a scene worthy of You-Know-Who and his followers, not a four year old boy.

James stared horrified at his son who simply kept his eyes on the table and never looked back.

- o - o -

_One week after_

Harry lay on his bed still thinking about the way the mouse had danced around on the table before falling and never rising again. The two people, the man and woman, hadn't woken up again either. He'd heard people calling them dead and when he was back at home, he had looked up the word 'death' in the dictionary. It meant 'the event of dying or departure from life'. So people who were dead were not alive anymore. They didn't move and didn't breathe and they either went into some place really nice with lots of light or some place that had lots of fire. Harry wondered where the two people who had died would go to.

Something in him hurt, especially when his parents had untied the ropes because they did it in a hurry and didn't even seem to want to touch him. Nobody wanted to touch him or even look at him. All of them looked at him like the man and woman who had taken him had. Like they were afraid of him. His parents were afraid of him.

One small hand touched his chest where the hurting feeling became more pronounced and the moonlight fell on the runes etched into his skin. Was this why they were afraid of him? Or was it because of the tingly feeling he got before the darkness came out?

It seemed, no matter what he did, no one wanted him around.

- o - o -

**TBC**

Please review. And, um, I will go into hiding for the death threats that will probably be aimed at me after this chapter. And I've been bombarded with papers this week so if there's some grammatical error or whatever in this chapter I'd appreciate a heads up.

Coming up: Harry and Voldie meet (fucking finally)


	4. First Impressions

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine.**

I'm sorry I did not update last week. It was finals week. I was swamped. I know I said I'd update two chapters this week but this is only the first one. Next chapter will be coming in two or three days. I'm sorry I fail so much.

**THE DARK CHRONICLES**

**Chapter Three: First Impressions**

- o - o - **  
**

The first time Harry felt something strange was up was when his parents asked the house elves to take him to Healer Wycksworth's instead of taking him themselves. His father had told him that they had something 'important' to do. The incident struck Harry as strange because James was grinning and there was a happy light in his eyes. In all his years, Harry could not ever remember his father in such high spirits. His mother looked more cheerful too and he often caught his parents in some corner of the manor cuddling together and whispering to each other.

On that Saturday, he'd accidentally eavesdropped on their conversation as they prepared to go somewhere 'important'.

"Do you think we should tell him now?"

"I don't know, Lils… It's a little too soon, don't you think?" James hedged. "We're not even sure yet, that's why we're going to St. Mungo's today. And that whole mess with Sarah MacLeod and Bradley Fenwick was just three months ago. He's probably not over it and this might just add a whole new level of confusion."

"Hmmm…" Lily traced her belly. "All right. We should get it confirmed at the very least."

James grinned and made to lift her in his arms, whereupon Lily shrieked with laughter and Harry, hiding behind a rusting suit of armor, walked quietly away careful not to interrupt. He wondered what sort of wonderful secret it could be that his mother and father were keeping together.

He was glad to see them happy. For a long time after he was taken away and found again, things between him and his parents had been tense and hard. They never touched him and whenever they looked at him, they looked away immediately like there was something about him they didn't want to be reminded of. That night, after he had been found, they'd taken him to a man with long white hair all over his head and around his mouth. Everyone had called the man Dumbledore.

Dumbledore had gazed sternly at Harry and asked him to tell exactly what had happened. The man had looked so formidable, telling Harry that he shouldn't lie because bad things happened to little liars. Harry wasn't even sure what a 'lie' was. He'd managed to tell Dumbledore in shaky whispers everything that had taken place and then he'd felt all tingly and the darkness had started coming out but then Dumbledore had made him drink something that made him sleepy and that was the last he'd remembered of that night before waking up in bed.

Harry was just glad it was all over.

- o - o -

_Two months later_

His mother and the old woman were having tea in the backyard. Half-hidden from behind the door, Harry spied on them. There was little else to do in the house these days, considering that his parents had still not found a new governess for him.

The old woman had arrived half an hour ago and although she looked strange with the bright clothes, red handbag, and birdlike hat there was something about her demeanor that suggested she brooked no disobedience. Harry had seen glimpses of his parents' friends and colleagues who popped in and out of the house over the years but he had never seen this woman before. His mother knew her, though, bending down to kiss her cheek and calling her 'Mrs. Longbottom'.

His mother. Harry frowned.

She and his father had been acting even more peculiar. They had ordered the house elves to clear out one of the old, unused rooms in the manor and it was being redecorated for… something. And his father was always touching his mother's stomach. Harry had noticed that his mother had gained weight there and it was bulging out slightly. Nobody had bothered telling him yet what was going on.

Harry had been going to the library when the old woman had arrived and although it had only been for a second, she'd looked at him with a cold speculation that sent a shiver down his spine. It reminded him a lot of Healer Wycksworth. And then she'd smiled only it hadn't been a smile at all because she didn't look happy while she was doing it, only tired.

"How is the boy?" the old lady had a crisp, strong voice.

His mother sighed. "The same. As far as James and I can tell. Harry's never really been very… expressive. The only difference as far as we can tell is that his… abilities are acting up again. They've gotten worse since the incident. Healer Wycksworth says it's like all the work that the potion and his therapy has accomplished so far has been reversed."

Mrs. Longbottom pursed her lips as though she'd eaten something sour. "Wycksworth," she harrumphed. "Wouldn't know his hat from his horns. I am still incredulous that a practical girl such as yourself would place your son in his hands."

"It was at Dumbledore's suggestion and it was necessary. Healer Wycksworth was the only one who could continue the ritual of suppressing Harry's powers."

"I still say it's a bad idea," Mrs. Longbottom was frowning but she took a sip of her tea and allowed the topic to fade. "And what about you? How are you? I've heard about your… condition."

Lily laughed, a pure, clear sound that had Harry's heart thudding loudly. "Gossip does travel, doesn't it? James and I just found out over a month ago and outside of family, Sirius, Remus and Peter, we hadn't even told anyone about it yet."

"Oh pish posh, I don't see why not. Looking at James these days, it's almost like he wants to take a page out of the Daily Prophet to announce the impending event to the rest of the Wizarding World."

"Yes, well, we both agreed it would be best kept quiet. This world is no safe place to bring a child into, what with the escalating Death Eater attacks everywhere," Lily's voice faded a bit and became more somber.

Mrs. Longbottom made a garbled sound that may have been some form of agreement. "And your pregnancy is coming along well? No complications? The baby is healthy?"

"Healer Shelton says everything is smack dab at the middle of normal ranges and the baby is developing nicely. No complications whatsoever. We don't know if it's a boy or a girl, yet. It can be a little surprise and hopefully, the little one will come just in time for Christmas," Lily's face was almost flushed with pleasure.

Confused, Harry turned away from the door. What was 'baby'? He left his mother and the old woman to their tea and tottered off to the library. Carefully, he climbed up the chair and placed his hands on the big, old book that was the dictionary. His fourth governess had taught him how to use it and Harry tried to keep his clumsy fingers from tearing the pages as he went to 'B'.

Baby: a very young child who has not yet begun to walk or talk; an unborn child; the very young offspring of humans. Harry frowned. 'Child' was himself and other small boys and girls like him. Did that mean that there was a small boy or girl in his mother's stomach? How did it get there? Why was it there?

And why could it make his mother and father smile when he himself couldn't?

He heard a noise coming from the hallway and turned to see one of their house elves, Slippy, carrying a big bunch of toys that were taller than he was. Harry saw the house elf totter before regaining his balance. Jumping off the chair, Harry followed the house elf upstairs to the room where all activity in the house had been centered on lately.

The other two house elves already in there cast him nervous glances when he entered but otherwise ignored him. The room was bright, cheerful, lively and sparkling with the newness of recent dreams and hopes. It rubbed Harry raw because he could tell (he _knew_) that the baby with his mother right now was not going to be like him. That baby would be laughed with, played with, spoken to, _loved_.

Standing in the middle of the yellow room, the forlorn little boy felt a tear slip down his cheek, and another one, and another one. For the first time in months, he was crying.

The runes on his skin started to glow and the very air shuddered.

- o - o -

Lily had never felt so relaxed in months. She could almost put the horror with Harry away and pretend it had all been a nightmare that had never happened. For now, at least she could pretend she was like any normal witch having tea with a family friend and with her child on the way and not living in this world where Death Eaters could set foot on your doorstep when you least expected it.

She had been about to ask August Longbottom about the woman's grandchild Neville when they heard the sound of loud thuds and shrill, shattering glass.

"Oh dear Merlin, not again," Lily whispered before she pushed back the chair and stood up. Mrs. Longbottom's calming hand on her arm was what prevented her from running full-out. Instead, both women walked as swiftly as they could towards the room in the manor's second floor where the commotion was coming from. Lily's heart hammered painfully in her chest when she realized it was from the new nursery.

One of the house elves, Slippy, was cowering in front of the open door. He squeaked and hurriedly crawled away as a splintered piece of wood that looked like it had been torn off from the baby's crib came hurtling towards him. Lily and Mrs. Longbottom both took out their wands and approached the door. The older woman gasped while Lily felt faint.

Harry was sitting in the middle of the room and even the tear tracks on his cheeks seemed almost black in the intensity of his power. His voice, eerie, echoed through the room's high ceiling and the reverberations made it sound inhuman. Grunting, heart-wrenching sobs and with each choking cry, the room pulsed with a malevolent magic that sent things crashing into destruction, into each other, into little pieces of glass and wood. The body of another house elf was on the floor, pinned down by a huge armoire and unmoving. The other house elf was cowering underneath a three-legged table. All the chaos revolved around and was attracted to Harry – he was their sun.

Augusta Longbottom's face was ashen. "I never realized it was this bad. With Neville, nothing of this sort ever happens," she murmured. "How do you get him to stop?"

"I don't know, I don't know," Lily moaned taking a few tentative steps forward.

"_Stupefy!_" but Mrs. Longbottom's spell simply evaporated like mist.

"Harry!"

"Lily, you silly girl, _be careful_!"

"Harry! Please, listen to me. Stop it. You have to stop. _Harry!_"

"Lily, get back here! You can't, oh! – ouch!" Augusta Longbottom stared in dismay first at the bleeding gash on her arm where a shard of glass had just cut and then to Lily who was inching slowly, past flying debris, into the heart of all the darkness.

The little devil turned and stared, crying, at her. His eyes were black and those runes were black and Augusta Longbottom could not repress shivering, Merlin help them all. This was a monster.

"Lily!"

"Harry? Harry, it will be all right. You can stop crying now. There, don't cry. Calm down. Just calm down and come here. I'm here."

"Get away from there!"

"Harry – "

But the little demon was reaching out with one grubby hand and there was a long, low moan that echoed and made the rafters and foundations of the house tremble and it came from Harry and he was reaching out, reaching out at the bulge on Lily's stomach. Augusta Longbottom felt sick with something she could not name and Lily was suddenly frozen in place with fear.

"Harry you don't want to do that. No, Harry, just stand up and we'll get away from here all right?"

The boy shrieked, shrill, this time and Mrs. Longbottom reflexively covered her ears and winced. There was the sound of more splintering. Her foremost thought was that they had to get help. Where was that James Potter anyway? The fireplace. She had to get to –

There was a sharp, surprised cry of pain and before Mrs. Longbottom could even think of leaving the room she turned, knowing the worst, towards Lily. One of the heavy, flying chairs had collided into Lily sending her sprawling on her back on the floor. The violently shaking chair was still on top of her and although Augusta Longbottom rushed to her side, ignoring all the other dangerous flying wreckage, she already saw that Lily was clutching her stomach and she could smell the faint metal-scent of blood even before she saw it trickling from between Lily's legs.

"Oh. Oh!" Lily Potter was holding her in a death-grip, green eyes pleading not to be told the worst. "My baby. _My baby!_"

Her outcry coincided with one last wail from Harry before he shut up and stopped crying and everything that was flying about the room just… stopped and fell to the floor. There was silence, then Lily's moans, then the whimpers from the one house elf still there and conscious. Harry was staring wide-eyed at Lily, at the growing puddle of blood on the floor.

There were voices and pounding footsteps and suddenly James was at the door. He gaped, shocked, at the apocalyptic rubble in the room, at Augusta Longbottom's horrified expression, at his own wife's anguish and at his only son, sitting placidly with tear streaks, now clear, on his face. His eyes were drawn, magnet-like, to the blood that was gathering below Lily and he snapped.

He covered the distance between him and Harry with a few short strides and gripped the small boy by the shoulders, shaking him violently. "What have you done? _DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE? _That was your baby brother, or sister in there! That was – _That was my child_! You've killed him! You've _killed_ a member of your own family! You're nothing but a murderer! A _MURDERER!"_

Harry's eyes were wide with fear staring at the enraged image of his father with eyes almost popping out and spit flying from his mouth. James suddenly released him as though he had just then realized what he was holding and Harry toppled to the floor. There was the sound of more people coming and suddenly Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were crowding the hallway. Remus only took one look at Lily before breathing a sharp "I'll call St. Mungo's."

James stared at Harry with the same spiteful hatred he usually reserved for the Dark Lord. "You are no son of mine. You're a _MONSTER_."

- o - o -

_Five days later_

The objective was simple.

One of the greatest difficulties the Dark Lord had with moving against the Order of the Phoenix was that Dumbledore's merry band of misfits was so frustratingly well-organized. And although there were those among them who proudly proclaimed to the Wizarding World that they were Order members (that Longbottom couple for one), the identities of the other members of the Order were for the most part unknown to Voldemort. The Order's meetings were as equally well-hidden as their identities. Which was why it was _such_ a breakthrough – and a brilliant stroke of luck but the Dark Lord was never one to believe in such inanities as _luck_ – that the fools from the Order actually believed Snape had defected to their side. Having a double agent within the Order of the Phoenix was going to start paying off and it was going to start paying off now.

Usually meetings of the Order of the Phoenix were planned well in advance in order to prepare their meeting place properly. But it seemed that Dumbledore had slipped up and this next meeting had only been hastily patched together a couple of days ago. And even better, Snape had managed to glean that it was going to be taking place in the Longbottom residence.

The Dark Lord allowed his features to soften into something resembling satisfaction. No Fidelius Charm, shaky anti-Apparition wards, and lax watchers.

Nothing could save Francis Eveleigh now.

- o - o -

"Darling?" Keelan Eveleigh turned at the sound of his soft-spoken wife's voice. "Have you seen Francis?"

Keelan turned to survey the general scene of chaos in the hallways of the Longbottom manor and sighed. He knew it wasn't a good idea to schedule this meeting so fast and he wasn't quite sure what Dumbledore's justification was but if he were a betting man, then he would've bet it had something to do with the fact that Lily Potter was noticeably absent and James Potter was in a mood to kill.

"He's probably out somewhere playing, Mira. But if you want to, I'll go find him," he offered.

Miranda gave him a smile. "I realize it's a little silly to worry when we're surrounded by our friends here but…"

Keelan squeezed her hand. He understood. It had been a pretty big move for him since all the generations of Eveleighs before him had been purebloods and members of Slytherin and even now, walking amongst the members of the Order still made him uncomfortable. Miranda had been a big part of why he had decided to change his ways in the first place. And now his only son was destined to be the Savior of the Wizarding World. He knew why Miranda always felt so overprotective over Franics – he himself felt the same.

Before he and Miranda could start searching for their son there was a commotion somewhere by the front door where the crowd was thickest. It attracted more people like flies. Someone exploded their wand with a loud bang and a bright flash and there was silence. The Eveleighs heard slight wheezing before they recognized the voice of Mundungus Fletcher who was supposed to be outside on watch duty.

"Dark Lord… Attack!"

As if a strong wind had surrounded them, all the windows and doors suddenly slammed open and there was a general outcry before pandemonium ensued. They heard faint popping sounds coming from outside and knew that there were people Apparating in.

"Prepare yourselves! Drive them back!" Dumbledore roared.

The initial air of panic became replaced with determination as most of the women and children were sent to Floo away in the fireplaces and the remaining people planned how to fight back. Though this had not been anticipated, the Order had planned for such scenarios already and everyone knew what role they had to play.

Keelan suddenly found Dumbledore standing beside them. "Find Francis and Portkey out of here," was the wizard's instructions. "You know where all the emergency Portkeys in the house are stashed. I have a hunch he is the real reason Voldemort chose to strike today of all days. Remember his life is of the greatest importance!"

"We'll go with them," a grim-faced Sirius Black volunteered, James Potter in tow.

"Very well. Go. And make haste."

They did not need to be told twice.

- o - o -

It had been the worst week of his life.

Harry Potter sat with his knees pulled close to his body in the darkened room and just stared off into space. He could still remember the words his father had yelled at him. It even echoed in his mind when he tried to sleep. He hadn't seen his mother since that day when she had been bleeding and then realized only later on that he had been at fault. Even the house-elves grew petrified of him, and they took to leaving his meals outside his bedroom door instead of directly to him.

Without warning his father had simply barked at him earlier in the morning to get ready, they were going someplace. They had wound up in a big, old manor and Harry had seen the old woman, Mrs. Longbottom again. She and his father had talked for a while and then he had been led in this room and given strict instructions to stay here.

They probably thought he wasn't paying attention but he had overheard part of their conversation. It was about someone named Neville, who was being taken to some secret place in the country and this place would be guarded by someone named Fidelius. And then Harry heard his father asking Mrs. Longbottom if it would be a good idea to send Harry there as well, to keep him safe but more importantly to keep others safe from him.

And they had both left Harry in the room and hadn't returned. He'd been there for a couple of hours but except for when a house elf delivered a plate of lunch that he'd nibbled on earlier, it seemed they had forgotten about him.

And then the door slammed open and the windows crashed outward but the only sign of surprise on Harry's face was the slight widening of his eyes. He had tentatively unfolded himself and was about to go to the door to see what was wrong when the screaming started.

It was strange, hearing screams and realizing it was coming from other people and not from him. He was so used to hearing the shrill, frightened sound clawing its way from his own throat. So novel was this experience that Harry just stood there for the next ten minutes and listened to the cries coupled with other sounds of confusion that seemed to be coming from somewhere down below the house.

After the novelty of listening had worn off, Harry padded quietly to the window and looked out at the backyard. The room where he was in was at the top floor of the manor and way down below he saw a woman running out of the house, holding her wand up high. She looked familiar – maybe she'd been to their house once before. He saw her stumble and when she did another figure emerged from inside the house.

This one was dressed all in black with a white mask covering his or her face. The first sight of that person sent a chill down Harry's spine. He hardly realized his hands were clutching the metal frames of the windows as he angled lower for a closer look. The witch on the ground tried to get up but the black-robed wizard shot a jet of blue light and it looked as though it had pinned her to the ground. Then the black-robed wizard raised his wand and said words Harry could not decipher. Green light shot from his wand, hitting the woman.

Then… nothing. The black-robed wizard calmly knelt down, checking on the witch it seemed, before he about-faced and swiftly walked back into the house. The woman never got up. Harry was speechless as another evening and another woman (and man) assaulted his memory. But those two had been covered in blood. This one was just… lying there. Dead. She was not ever getting up again.

Now Harry really wanted to scream. There was a scuffling sound behind him and a heaving, scruffy man was looking over his shoulder, at the same time pushing a boy around Harry's age into the room. Surprised, Harry stood rooted to where he was.

The small boy was just as skinny as Harry and his face was dominated by bright blue eyes that widened when he saw Harry. "Uncle Lew…"

"Francis, we have to get you – " the man stopped short when he noticed the black-haired boy near the windows. "Oh sweet Merlin." Fear and dislike flashed through his face – emotions that Harry always associated with how others saw him and it didn't surprise Harry that this man felt much the same.

The boy though – Francis – was staring at Harry with undisguised fascination and despite himself Harry was interested as well. He had never met anyone his own age before.

"Francis, stay put, okay? And you," his face was a mask of disgust and it colored his voice when he ran his eyes over Harry, "Just stay there and mind your own business." The man then hurried over to a small wooden chest by the corner of the room, unlocked it by tapping on it with his wand and then began rummaging inside it frantically.

Harry cast a curious look at the man at the same time that the boy Francis was observing him. The man was groping deep within the chest, muttering, "Portkey… Portkey… where is it…" It was around that time that voices drifted through the walls coming from the corridors outside, along with heavy footsteps and a shrill, cold laugh. People were coming. Seeing how the man's face paled to an almost sickly shade of milk, Harry guessed these weren't very nice people.

"Uncle Lew, he's so strange," the boy Francis piped up, breaking the tense silence in the room. "He's not moving. He's not even blinking. And what are those weird drawings on his skin?"

It took Harry a while to realize that Francis was talking about _him_. Absently, he ran a hand down one arm. He'd never thought of the runes on his skin as 'weird'. They had simply always… been there. Like Healer Wycksworth. Like pain. He slowly blinked and heard the boy Francis gasp softly at the movement. The noises outside were getting louder and he heard a wintry voice announce, "Check all the rooms. He is near. I can sense it."

The man muttered words under his breath that Harry had only heard his father say when he was angry. "No time… why isn't it here, it's just supposed to be _here!_ How difficult can it be to find a damn vase anyway?"

There was a step that was almost directly outside their door and Harry saw sweat beading on the man's forehead. He moaned, "NO! Francis, you _must_ escape from here! But they're here. What can I do, oh dear Merlin."

Vase? Wordlessly, Harry pointed to a shelf near the ceiling. The only thing that was placed on it was a hideous red and green vase with a twirling black dragon. As far as Harry had observed, it was the only vase in the room. "Vase," he said softly.

Francis' eyes widened. "Uncle Lew… he just…"

"What dyou want, you little devil?" was the biting statement at Harry but Lew's eyes followed the trajectory of his finger, saw the vase and immediately gave a groan of relief. "That's, yes, we can – "

At that moment the doorknob turned and things happened in a swift succession that left Harry's mind dizzy. The door was slammed open with a force that cracked the windows and shook the walls, sending the ugly vase tumbling from its position on top of the shelf to the floor, where it rolled harmlessly to a corner. Lew's eyes were bulging out of their sockets and his raised his wand, pointing it at Harry and cried, "_Muto oris!_"

White light shot out, directly at Harry and he could only stand there in shock as it hit him, engulfing and blinding him, so he didn't see as Lew directed that same white light over to Francis. When he finally managed to blink the brightness out of his eyes, the first thing he saw was a black-robed figure with a white mask standing in the doorway. The figure wasted no time pointing their wand at Lew and crying out in a female voice, "_Casus!_"

Lew was immediately hurled straight into the wall and there was the sickening sound of bone cracking as his leg bent at an unnatural angle. He landed near where the vase had rolled to and he tried not to make his desperate glances at it too obvious as the black-robed woman lazily slinked into the room. Francis had cried out when the spell had hit Lew and had instantly run to him except that… it _wasn't_ Francis.

It was supposed to be Francis since that was where he'd been standing only moments earlier but the boy who was now kneeling next to a pale, sweaty Lew had all the features of Harry. He had the messy black hair, the glasses, the green eyes, the skin rune markings, he even had the clothes. Francis-who-looked-like-Harry seemed blissfully unaware of this fact as he cried in front of 'Uncle Lew'. Harry could only gape. He saw the woman inside the black robes and white mask kick his look-alike who ended up doubled over next to Lew gasping in pain. Harry cocked his head. He didn't think it hurt _that_ much to be kicked in the midsection. Certainly, the Cruciatus was worse.

There were more footsteps and a thick silence engulfed the room, punctuated by Francis-who-looked-like-Harry's sniffles and a low, pained growl from Lew. Flanked by other people in similar black robes and white masks, a tall man with the contorted facial features that resembled a snake strode in. He alone wore no mask and his presence commanded all attention. As slitted red eyes ran down Harry the only thought to cross Harry's mind was: _this person also knew what it felt like to be different_.

The woman who was now standing in front of Lew and Francis said in a low voice, "Francis Eveleigh, my Lord."

Harry understood. They were here for Francis. But why was the snake man looking straight at him and not at Francis? He wasn't –

In the glass surface of a mirror that was conveniently positioned a little behind the snake man, Harry caught a glimpse of his reflection. Francis. It was Francis. _He_ was Francis. He lifted an arm shakily and the image of Francis in the mirror did the same. He was controlling Francis' body, he was _in_ Francis' body. But how – The white light!

He suddenly cast a terrified glance over at Lew and the real Francis but the man glared back at Harry with such hatred, daring him to say anything, one arm holding Francis-in-Harry's-body close to him with his hand over the boy's mouth to prevent him from talking.

The snake man barely paused to glance at Uncle Lew and Francis. He headed straight for Harry who felt frozen in place.

"I did not realize that this would be all too simple," his voice flowed with sibilant tones and it was so low Harry was certain he was the only one who could hear it. From behind him, his followers shut the door but the snake man lifted a long-fingered hand and ran cold digit down a statue-like Harry's cheek. The only emotion Harry could remotely feel emanating from him was amusement. As though this were all a game.

The snake man spoke raising his voice a notch and Harry saw that each one of the masked people listened intently to his words. "See now my faithful followers. Here we have the Savior of the Wizarding World whose life is literally in our hands. Savor this moment. The last hope of the Light is about to be extinguished forever."

There were murmurs of excitement and obvious pleasure and it reminded Harry of the fanatically pleased gleam in Healer Wycksworth's eyes every time they alighted on a whimpering Harry. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Lew was whispering something to the real Francis who nodded frantically, frightened eyes still trained on Harry.

No warning, no hesitation. The snake man trained his wand and, "_Avada Kedavra!_"

Green light flew to embrace a Harry Potter in the likeness of Francis Eveleigh.

- o - o -

Lewis Sinclair felt sick to his stomach as he watched Francis' body – although it was truly the Potter boy's – crumple to the floor. He felt sicker as he realized that it was _his _fault that the other boy was dead. _He_ had effectively sacrificed the life of Harry Potter for Francis Eveleigh's. But Harry Potter. Who would miss him? Not his father who couldn't stand to look at him or his mother who he had sent to the hospital.

That could have been Francis. Thank Merlin it wasn't Francis. He felt Francis grow rigid and start struggling as he realized what had happened to the other boy who now lay unmoving on the floor.

"Stop it! Remember what I told you?" he whispered frantically as the Dark Lord walked over to the prone body. Francis nodded, whimpering.

"All right then. On my mark," he muttered as he inched them closer to the ugly red vase that was the Portkey. "One, two, _three!_"

The rest of the Death Eaters turned at his loudly proclaimed last word but they could not stop as he and Francis reached out and grasped the Portkey together. There was a tugging sensation, a falling into madness and finally, finally they were safe.

- o - o -

"My Lord?" Parkinson was the first one to brave the silence.

The Dark Lord was just standing there, staring after the man and boy who had Portkeyed out of the room. The vibrations the Death Eaters were getting from the Dark Lord now bordered on displeasure.

"You imbeciles," that low voice edged with harshness spoke. "Let them _escape_."

"But, my Lord. We have eliminated the Eveleigh child!" Rudolphus Lestrange protested.

"_Have _we indeed, Lestrange?" the Dark Lord gestured with a cutting motion to the body on the floor. They all sucked in a quick breath. It was not the honey-featured Francis Eveleigh anymore. On the floor was skinny, dark-haired Harry Potter.

"Tricked by a Form Switching Spell," the Dark Lord murmured. "And now Albus Dumbledore will be barging in with his high and mightiness any moment. Well what are you failures waiting for? Round up the others, the child has escaped to Salazar knows where and we will accomplish nothing here! _GO!_"

The walls and windows shook with barely suppressed wrath. It took every inch of willpower not to start torturing his incompetent Death Eaters then and there. There was a time for everything and that time would be later. Right now, the lot of them were scampering off like scared rats to avoid the cat's fury.

"Francis Eveleigh. Fortune was with you this time around but the next time we meet will be your end," he hissed to an almost empty room.

_Almost_ empty.

"Master." A voice, hesitant.

He turned angry eyes to one Bartemius Crouch who was practically prostrating himself. "Master… the boy…"

It was on the tip of his tongue to snarl out, _What boy?_ But then he saw a faint black light hovering like mist around the body of the boy who had taken the Killing Curse in place of Francis Eveleigh. The child was curled in a fetal position and breathing deeply, normally, impossibly _alive_. There was no spell, no potion, no ritual in the world that could bring one back from death.

"He is alive," Crouch's voice was ashen.

To defeat the Killing Curse… this boy also seemed familiar. Just _who_ was he? One of the things the Dark Lord hated most was not knowing.

"Crouch."

"Yes, Mast – "

"_Animus_."

Crouch's eyes turned slack and empty. Voldemort observed him for a moment before speaking. "You will forget of this. You did not see this boy. You know nothing of him."

Crouch nodded stiffly, murmuring in an emotionless voice, "I know nothing."

"You will go down and gather the remaining Death Eaters and begin evacuation. You will go now."

"Now, Master," Crouch muttered and walked out. His gait was rigid and the Dark Lord waited a full five minutes before releasing Crouch from the effects of the Control Curse. It was a powerful spell and Voldemort took a minute to compose himself again. He did not quite know why it was so important that no one know of this but the Dark Lord had gotten this far by trusting his instincts.

Kneeling down, he contemplated the best way to transport this child out of here.

- o - o -

**TBC**

Please review. Let me know what you think good or bad. Hastily edited. Please inform me of mistakes so I can fix.

Coming up: Harry, Voldie, elementals.


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